


With Interest

by tinsnip



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Look Don't Touch, M/M, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian Bashir likes being looked at. Elim Garak likes to look.</p><p>Porn without plot, because why not?</p><p>There is absolutely scorchingly NSFW fanart for this fic located <a href="http://lilymantis.tumblr.com/post/69481323497/being-good-fanart-for-tinsnips-with-interest">here</a>, done by the astoundingly talented <a href="http://lilymantis.tumblr.com/">lilymantis</a>. Dear <em>me</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Interest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/gifts).



> For LadyDrace, because she writes like jeepers.
> 
> Kardasi translated as hovertext.

They’d turned on music earlier, to go with dinner. It was still playing, and he was dimly aware of it. It didn’t really interest him much.

Outside there was a flicker of light—the wormhole flashing into life, probably—and ordinarily he might have liked to peer through his window and catch a glimpse of it. Right at the moment, he wasn’t remotely interested in that, either.

The taste of kanar lingered in his mouth, its subtle floral scent soft on his so’c, and he could conceive of a universe where he might like to indulge in a little more. It certainly wasn’t this one, though: the very idea of kanar bored him to tears.

Much more interesting than any of these minor distractions was the way his prUt was being swallowed up by the pretty bottom of Julian Bashir, who was bouncing on his lap with absolutely charming enthusiasm and making some astonishing sounds. He was naked, back to Garak, legs braced on either side of Garak’s own thighs, and the muscles of his rump flexed with each slick up-and-down slide.

“Oh—oh, God, yes!”

His voice rang out, so much better than that extremely dull music they’d been listening to earlier, mercies, how had he stood it? No, this was better in every way: lovely crescendos, sudden staccato moments, and himself harmonizing on a few of the more uplifting passages… mmm, yes, and as Julian slid down his bottom rubbed against Garak’s irllun for just a moment, just enough to jolt his hips up from the sofa—

“No, _no,_ just hold still, stay the way I put you!” Julian’s voice was less a command, more a gasp, but Garak fisted his hands and did as he was told, nails biting into his palms, being _good._

The man was infuriating, really. He’d been outrageously flirtatious over dinner, challenging everything Garak said, refuting his points as soon as Garak made them, shooting him looks from beneath those ridiculous eyelashes, offering him bites from his plate, until Garak had been very nearly ready to upend the table and have him right then and there—and then of course, of _course_ he’d had to smile at him with that foolish smile, no subtlety, all teeth, and had said, “Do you have any idea how you’re looking at me?”

He’d blinked, smiled, stared back at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You look rather as if you’d like to eat me right up.” Julian had rested his cheek on one hand.

“Is that so?”

“Mmm. Would you like to? Eat me up, that is?” Head still pillowed, he’d tugged lazily at his shirt collar, displaying pretty tan skin and a hint of the collarbone that purpled so nicely when bitten. “Or would you rather just look at me for a while longer? Seeing as you’re taking such obvious pleasure in it?”

He’d wanted to look a little longer at that collarbone; instead, though, he’d matched Julian’s calm gaze. “You flatter yourself.”

“No, you flatter me. Look at your eyes. Your pupils are dinner plates.” He’d still been smiling, and he’d lifted his head and made circles around his own eyes with his fingers, poking fun.

“I’m simply being polite. If you’d prefer, I could look somewhere else.”

“You know, I really don’t think you could.” Now Julian had shoved back his chair, had stood up and stretched, and his shirt had pulled tight across his chest, blue silk rippling. “I think you’re rather interested in how I look, aren’t you?”

“If you say so.”

“Mmm, I do.” He’d slid a finger to the collar of his shirt and toyed with the fastener. “Perhaps I’ll show you a bit more.”

At that moment, Garak had been uncomfortably aware that he was rather more aroused than he’d planned to be at that stage of the evening. It was, of course, nothing compared to how aroused he was now, with Julian riding him, pushing himself down on his prUt, using him entirely for his own enjoyment—he was somewhere beyond arousal, really, in a whole new world of _need_ as each little slide across his irllun jerked pleasure into him, and then snatched it away as Julian let his prUt slip out almost to its tip.

He shouldn’t say anything. He knew he shouldn’t. That didn’t seem to matter, not when he _needed_ this badly. “Julian—”

“Hush, be still, I’m _busy—_ _”_

And he was, one arm working, and Garak couldn’t quite see, couldn’t get an angle, but he could hear Julian panting, could hear the sound of skin on skin, and although he couldn’t see he could imagine: long fingers, dark prUt, glistening tip, delectable and very, very interesting.

He’d been just as interested earlier, when Julian had unfastened his shirt and let it hang open as he’d leaned forward and kissed him. He’d tasted like wine, which wasn’t usually to Garak’s taste, but it had been manageable when it came along with soft lips and sharp teeth and a tongue that urged him to respond. He’d leaned forward in his chair, reaching up and grasping Julian’s biceps, feeling how the muscles of his arms had worked as Julian had leaned into him. He’d tugged at him, wanting him in his lap, and Julian had laughed and pulled away.

It had been frustrating. Charmingly so, but frustrating nonetheless. “Is something wrong, my dear?”

“Oh, not at all, not at all… It’s just that when you’re kissing me, I can’t see you looking at me. And I’m really rather enjoying that, you see.”

“Ah?” Too much talking, but he’d been patient.

“I think I’d like you to look at me a bit more, actually. If you don’t mind.” And there’d been something in Julian’s voice, a little twist, a thread worth following…

“I suppose I can endure.”

And so he had, goodness, he’d been strong, as Julian had stripped off his shirt and had run his hands over himself, over his chest, eyes fixed on Garak’s the entire time, watching him watch. His tongue had flicked between his lips. His nipples had been hard. That had been very interesting: Garak was becoming accustomed to how the Human’s nipples could crinkle under the ministrations of his own skillful tongue, but he’d never noticed them doing it on their own before.

Julian had tracked his gaze, had looked down at himself, had grinned. “Hmm. I suppose I must be cold.”

“In _my_ quarters? Really?”

Julian had looked back at him and smiled wider, and had closed his eyes and thrown his head back as he’d slid his hands down along his hips and into his pants, which had left Garak with simply no choice but to reach out and yank him close and bite at his stomach—

“Oh, wait, not yet, not _yet_ …”

Julian’s voice had been almost a laugh. Almost, but not quite, and so he’d stopped, and made a soft, frustrated sound against Julian’s skin. “No?”

“Well… not _exactly_ ‘no.’”

That had promised to be interesting, and so he’d looked up and seen Julian looking back down at him with eyes gone dark.

“You like looking at me. And I like it when you look.”

“Good. I’m glad.” His voice had been a bit rough, and Julian’s mouth had twitched.

“I’d… there’s something I’d very much like you to do for me. If you’re willing. You might find it rather interesting, actually.”

“Go on.”

“Just look at me. Look all you like. But you mustn’t touch me. Not ‘til I say. You must be good.” And, suiting action to word, he’d lifted Garak’s hands from his rump and placed them neatly in his lap.

_Oh. Oh, dear me._

He’d been quiet for a moment, gathering himself, and Julian had raised his brows, had seemed, for a brief moment, uncertain. “Unless, of course, that doesn’t interest you after all…?”

He’d wanted to laugh at how badly Julian had misunderstood his brief pause.

“Oh, my dear…” He’d looked at Julian, had let himself stare and smile, and had delighted in the flush that had suffused his skin. “Let me assure you that I am very, very interested.” He’d folded his hands together, had looked up with wide eyes. “I will be good.”

“Oh, _marvellous._ _”_ Julian’s voice had been almost breathy, and his eyes had danced. “Look, I think… could I put you somewhere? So I can look at you too?”

 _Somewhere_ had turned out to be the sofa, and he’d let his hands sprawl out on either side of him as he sat and smiled up at Julian, who’d smiled back at him and shrugged out of his shirt and unfastened his pants—

 _“Oh,_ yes, that’s just— _yes!_ _”_ Now Julian’s bottom was slapping down against him, and the room echoed with the sound of it, of flesh on flesh, of wetness and breath and the sound of his own hissing, taut and beyond his control. One of Julian’s hands gripped his thigh, just above the knee, squeezing hard, almost painful; the other was still working, out of his sight, and Julian’s breath was coming in sharp stutters. He couldn’t see Julian’s face, but his shoulders were taut, his neck stiff, muscles working beautifully.

Earlier he’d been so much looser, and that had been beautiful too. He’d moved lazily, slowly as he’d slipped his pants off, leaving him in those dull grey Starfleet-issue briefs that Garak found so very disappointing. Comfort really wasn’t everything, especially if one wanted to put oneself on display… then again, as Julian had closed his eyes and slipped one hand into his briefs, gripping, stroking, he’d found himself reconsidering the value of unnecessary adornment. How much more decoration did one really need, after all, when a lovely young man was pleasuring himself right there in plain sight? Would the shiver of his stomach be enhanced in any way by a more colourful waistband? Would the way his thighs were twitching be improved by a brocaded trim? Quite frankly, if Julian had been any more alluring in that moment, gasping in pleasure as he ran his hand over himself, Garak would have been hard-pressed to survive it.

As it was, he’d found himself warming, swelling, all his ridges tingling as he’d watched. When Julian had opened his eyes, one hand still working, he’d smiled widely at Garak, presenting a strange picture:  innocent grin, busy hand. _Oh, my._

“You _are_ interested, aren’t you… you’re going blue…”

His Chu’en _had_ been prickling, which usually meant he was putting on something of a display himself. Ah, well, no sense being subtle in that case, especially when Julian had asked him to be obvious, and so he’d stared at Julian, letting his eyes open wide, and Julian had bit his lip and made a small sound.

“I can’t— I can’t just stand here, I need to be on you—look, don’t you move…”

And in a series of swift movements he’d skinned out of his briefs, prUt bobbing prettily as he’d climbed on top of Garak and straddled his thighs. He’d run his hands up into Garak’s hair, fingertips tracing the tingling ridges there. He’d buried his face in Garak’s neck, biting at his scales, suckling at his kinat’hU, and his prUt had pressed against Garak’s middle, and oh, Garak’s ajan had been warm and wet, his own prUt shifting within him, but he hadn’t moved. He’d been good. He’d done as he was told.

For his reward, Julian had sat back and looked at him, just looked for a moment, and he’d stared up at him, naked and lovely in the dim room.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll have you just like this.” Julian’s eyes had been faraway for a moment, seeing him and seeing past him, and then he’d nodded and smiled as his hand had found the bump of Garak’s ajan and had rubbed, mmm, had rubbed and stroked and Garak had made a small sound and hadn’t moved because he was being good, oh, very good… oh, but Julian hadn’t said he couldn’t talk…

“Yes,” he’d breathed, and Julian’s attention had been pulled back to him, smile sharpening. He’d watched in delight as Julian had kissed his way down his body, puffing hot breaths through the fabric of his shirt, had unsealed his pants and smiled at what he found there, had run the tip of his tongue over Garak’s swollen scales, had licked his thumb and pressed it against Garak’s Chuva just _so_ and out his prUt had slid as if a string had been pulled.

“Oh, look at that.” Julian’s voice had been thick. “Look at that. I like that. I want that in me right away.”

“Happy to oblige,” and he’d shifted, reaching, and Julian had pressed him back against the sofa with a hand on his belly.

“No. No, you don’t move.”

“But…” He’d been aching, the room’s air cool on his prUt, and Julian had pushed himself off his lap and stood there before him, looking down at him.

“Don’t move. Just stay like that. Yes, like that, with your clothes on and your trousers open and your hair all messed up… yes, that’s good…” As he’d spoken, his hand had found his prUt, and he’d gripped it, tugging, sliding. He’d never seen Julian’s prUt quite so hard. It had been pointing very nearly up, the way Garak’s own did when Julian wanted him standing, and Julian had encircled it with his fingers and stroked it roughly, sharply, biting his lower lip. Garak had watched him, standing there, touching himself, and had found his own mouth drooping open, had tasted musk on his so’c.

Julian’s voice had been almost a hiss, matching Garak’s own breath. “I think… God, I want you now, but… all right, just let me…” He’d reached down, had run his hand over Garak’s wet prUt, ignoring the sound Garak made, and had rubbed that wetness into himself, other hand still moving. His eyes had closed, he’d gasped a breath, and Garak had needed to press himself back against the sofa cushions to keep from devouring him whole. “Yes, all right. Yes… Yes. Now.”

He’d moved so smoothly, so swiftly, turning himself, spreading himself open, and Garak had sucked air as Julian had lowered himself onto his prUt, making a hard, hungry sound, sitting on him, letting Garak take his whole weight for a moment as he pulled his legs up on to the sofa, _oh,_ he’d been filled with the taste of him, with the need to writhe. He’d pressed up against him and Julian had moaned, _“No,”_ and so he’d let himself go limp and had sat there uselessly as Julian had thrust himself onto him again and again—

“Oh, _God!_ God, yes, I’m—God, I’m coming, _oh!_ _”_

The air tasted bitter and salty, and wet warmth dripped on his pants as Julian twitched and shuddered, his arm still working, his other hand spasming on Garak’s leg, and Garak closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip and did not move, he did _not move_ as Julian clenched tight around him, panting, shivering—

He did not move when Julian let out a long sigh. He did not move when Julian stroked a hand along his thigh. He did not move when Julian let himself slip slowly, slowly back down along his prUt until he was completely enveloped, until his irllun throbbed against slick heat. He did not move when Julian shifted his bottom against him and made a soft sound.

“Lovely. Lovely, Garak.”

He did not move. But he made a noise, and Julian laughed.

“All right. Now you can move.”

And that was all he needed—he reached out, slipped his fingers through Julian’s and entwined them, felt wetness on his palm as he tugged Julian’s hands to his chest and enfolded him until their bodies were locked together and he could move in him, could writhe against him, could twist and feel the friction, one, two, _three,_ and it was downpour almost before he was expecting it, and he bent Julian forward and cried out against his back, filling him, wrapping him up, shuddering against him.

“Oh,” said Julian faintly, on him and under him. “Oh, that _was_ interesting, wasn’t it.”

Well, that was an understatement, and he thought of saying so, perhaps acerbically.

He decided to be good, instead.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're suddenly much more curious about that fanart, may I recommend you go and peruse it [here](http://lilymantis.tumblr.com/post/69481323497/being-good-fanart-for-tinsnips-with-interest)? Have fun!


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